one hole, can you swear that he has not
been in another? Will you go to him now?"

There was no door open for escape, and the matter was not important
enough for me to be willing to force one. "If you wish," I agreed.

Cadillac looked relieved. "Good! You will find the messenger at my
quarters. I shall let you go alone, for I can make nothing of the
man's speech, and he smells somewhat rancid for a close acquaintance.
When you are through, you will find me here."

I bowed, and made my way to his quarters. I knew as I opened his door
that I might be entering more than appeared upon the surface, but the
excitement of the game was worth the hazard,--even the hazard of a
possible delay,--and I pushed the door wide, and went in.

The Huron was sitting in the middle of the floor, handling his calumet
with some ostentation. The Hurons were but the remnant of a race, for
Iroquois butchery had reduced them in numbers and in spirit, but even
in their exile they preserved a splendor of carriage that made the
Ottawas, who camped beside them here, seem but a poor and shuffling
people. This man was a comely specimen, and he was decked to do honor
to the moment. His blanket was clean, and his head freshly shaved
except for a bristling ridge that ran, like a cock's comb, across his
crown, and that dripped sunflower oil over his shoulders.

He handed me his calumet, and we smoked for the time required by
ceremony, then he rose, and drew two beaver skins from the folds of his
blanket.

"The sun has smiled upon us," he said, with a certain sedate pomposity
which, like the black crest on his head, might be ludicrous in itself,
but seemed fitting enough in him. "I speak for my people who are in
camp upon the island. We have been upon strange rivers, and over
mountains where the very name of Frenchman is unknown. Yet we have
returned, and we come to you at once, as the partridge to her young.
We are glad to see a Frenchman's face again. We confirm what we have
said by giving these beavers."

I smoked for a moment, then leaned over and kicked the skins into the
corner. "Why these words?" I asked, with a slow shrug. "Does the leg
thank the arm for its service? Does the mouth give flatteries and
presents to the tongue? We of Michillimackinac are all of one body.
My brother must be drunk with the bad rum of the English traders, that
he should come to me in this way. No, if my brother has anything to
say, let him think